The Buzz

One last swig and the bottle was through.  Another bottle of sweet pleasure gone.  The world is spinning and won’t stop.  Doing simple things like walking has become a task.  That’s the fun of it all.  You can say whatever comes to your mind and just blame it on the alcohol later.  It’s not your fault.  Everyone else you’re with has long been wasted.  Some have already passed out.  You always liked being last.  Then you can take care of anyone if you had to.  Except you don’t like doing that anyway.  You feel like your getting used.  You’re a looker is all.  You see what’s going to happen before you do it.  You like to people watch.  And that’s ok, as long as you have your fun.  You got to pick up another bottle, but you pick the wrong one.  The one on the left is just a hallucination.  You give it another try.  There it is.  There’s a good bottle of sweet bliss.  It’s a good thing that you decided to open all the bottles at once.  Or else you wouldn’t have been able to drink it.  You’re having problems drinking.  You feel like your going to be sick.  Drink more and more, it’ll make it go back down.  The burning going down your throat, you aren’t sure what it is.  Could be the vodka or could be the acid brought up from your stomach.  Mentally you feel it but you pretend not to care.  That would only ruin your buzz, the best thing in the world.  Can’t control it anymore, your stomach is squeezing shut, convulsing, pushing out all that’s there.  Stumbling over passed out friends, you barely make the trashcan and then all goes black.  You wake up with your head in puke and the worst hangover ever.  Good times, good times.  One of the best you’ve ever had.  Can’t wait till next Friday, when you’ll do it all again.1